


Don't Just Wait and Trust to Fate

by Robin_Fai



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur Pendragon Returns (Merlin), First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Merlin is So Done (Merlin), Modern Era, POV Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Pining Arthur, Post-Canon, Protective Arthur, This was meant to be crack, but then they all got angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:21:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26070337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Robin_Fai/pseuds/Robin_Fai
Summary: Arthur awakes on the Isle of the Blessed only to find everyone he once knew long gone, and what he thought he knew about himself, his destiny, and his feelings to be utterly wrong. Modern day living, with all its fancy not-magic technology, and not being a king is hard to get used to. But worst of all, Merlin is nowhere to be seen.
Relationships: Arthur Pendragon (Merlin) & Original Male Character(s), Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 156





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You know when you plan a 1000-2000 word one shot crack fic, but then it gets out of hand, everyone starts feeling things, discovering sequins, and the plot more than doubles?  
> Yes. Hi there. That's this.

It had been a year since Arthur had awoken on the Isle of the Blessed - one whole damn year - and he still had no idea why he was back. Merlin had told him enough of the prophecy that he had understood, not that he had believed it at the time, that he was supposed to rise again when Albion’s need was greatest. He was the Once and Future King of Albion. 

Except Albion wasn’t called Albion, it didn’t seem like this was their time of greatest need, and he wasn’t king now. He was alone in a strange new world with _no idea_ what he was meant to be doing.

=====

He had been rescued that fateful day by an old man out fishing on the lake. After several hours of staring at the water and wondering if he could swim the distance from the island to the shore he had finally spotted a boat and called out until he was picked up. The man had taken one look at his armour and laughed.

“Stag do was it?”

“I… No? I was not hunting. I had been mortally injured and have just been returned from Avalon to the lands of the living.”

The old man huffed a laugh. “So you’re the groom then. Mortally wounded – ha! That’s a good way of saying dead drunk.”

“I am not a groom. I am the King of Camelot.”

“Yeah, I can see that mate. So where are your knights of the roundtable, eh? Or were they just gonna leave you on that there island all day. I hope the wedding isn’t today!”

Arthur was thoroughly lost. He knew that some time had passed while he was in Avalon, but he had no idea how long. Yet this man seemed to know of his knights, so perhaps it hadn’t been too long. What was the wedding he was talking about though?

“I am not sure my knights knew to prepare for my return. I shall return to them in Camelot presently. And I am already wed.”

The old man’s eyebrows rose so high they near vanished under the odd looking fitted hat he wore.

“Already wed?!” The old man let out a cackling laugh as they pulled up to the shore. “Well that could be a bit of a problem!”

“I do not see how.”

“Well how are you gonna get married if you’ve already got a wife?” The old man demanded, then tilted his head thoughtfully. “Or husband of course,” he added.

“Husband?!” Now Arthur really was confused. He looked down at himself and back up to the man. He really didn’t think he could have been mistaken for a woman. Was the man not quite sane? Og course he could have had a male consort in private if he so chose - many people did - but it was not a thing to be admitted publicly, and you certainly couldn’t marry them.

The old man shot him a glare as he stepped out of the boat into the shallows. “You’re not one of them folk that don’t approve are you? Should’ve left you on the island if so.”

“No… No I don’t… disapprove,” he shrugged. If it hadn’t been for Gwen then perhaps… But he didn’t think about that too often. “I just didn’t know that was possible now; getting married I mean.”

“Where have you been the last few years – living in a cave?” The old man grumbled. He waded out and on to the shore to moor the boat. “Come on. I’m not dragging your hungover arse up here. You’ll have to brave the water for the last bit.”

Arthur had followed his orders. The man looked like a peasant, but he had rescued him from the island so it was only polite not to press his royal privilege. Then he recalled he might not yet have any privilege in this time, whenever it was. It was all very disorientating. Once he was upon the shore he reached for a coin to thank the man but he didn’t carry a purse while in his armour so he settled for the offer of a handshake. The old man gave him a grudging smile as he took his hand.

“Thank you, good Sir. Please consider me in your debt for the kind assistance you rendered me today. As a parting request - could you point me in the direction of Camelot?” 

The old man laughed at that. “What is that? One of them holiday cottages or whatever?”

“No, it’s a… city? A castle?” Arthur was panicking. How could someone, even if they were a peasant, not know about Camelot. Everyone in the five kingdoms and beyond had heard of Camelot. Was this some kind of cruel trick

“Are you still drunk?” The old man demanded.

“I am not drunk.” Arthur crossed his arms across his chest and tried not to think about the way his heart was racing.

“Hmmm.” The old man frowned at him for some time, before turning and trudging away. When Arthur remained where he was the man sighed and beckoned him to follow without so much as a backwards glance. “Come on, keep up! We’ll go see my mate Trevor. He’s always banging on about Camelot. Maybe he’ll know what you’re about.”

=====

Trevor, it turned out, was a druid.

Trevor was the latest in a long line of druids who had lived in a small cottage by the lake and whose sole mission in life was to await the return of the Once and Future King. 

Trevor was also a hopeless alcoholic who was apparently notorious in the region for his wild tales about King Arthur and ‘real magic’. 

If he’d had any other choice Arthur would have put as much ground as possible between him and the man. Trevor had literally collapsed and begun kissing his feet when the fisherman, whose name it transpired was Fred, introduced them. It didn’t improve from there.

=====

It took two days for Trevor to sober up enough to really comprehend what was happening. Arthur wanted to go out, move on, but everything about this strange new world he found himself in was terrifying. There were all sorts of magical seeming artefacts and devices which Trevor insisted were ‘technology’ and not ‘real magic’. There was a jug that boiled water by itself, a thick parchment that could bring up different texts at a touch, and a box that cooked without fire. The black slab that showed moving pictures was a particular shock. Every time it started up there were different people captured within its layers. Trevor got especially angry when he drew his sword on it. Apparently it was a rather expensive ‘technology-not-real-magic’ item.

The real terror in all of this though was not all the new things he was experiencing, but rather that how different they were told him all that he needed to know about how long he had been dead. This was very much _not_ the world he had left behind him.

=====

Eventually Trevor came to his senses enough to recall his mission and he contacted the rest of the druids. Arthur was whisked away in a carriage that moved with more of the not-magic. It made him feel sick and dizzy with how smoothly it sped past the landscapes and cities they passed through. The world outside its windows was completely alien to him. The air was heavy with strange smells and sounds. Nothing looked familiar. He wanted to close his eyes and rest once more.

It took weeks to acclimatise. Weeks of moving from one druid’s home to another. Weeks of instruction on how to do anything in this bizarre future. Endless lectures in history where the vertiginous chasm between his time and ‘now’ proved to be full of far more important times he could have returned. 

The other challenge amidst the many new things he had to learn, was to look after himself. He had always had his status to fall back on. Now the fact he was a grown man who could not even dress himself was nothing short of embarrassing. It didn’t help that these odd items of clothing that everyone wore were so tight! The first time he put on a pair of ‘jeans’ he thought he might never be able to move again. 

Then there was the reality of his lack of status. The druids revered him, which was new, but otherwise he was nobody. He wasn’t a king any more. The people on the street gave him nothing more than passing glances. He had always hated being the focus of so many people’s attentions, but now he found invisibility just as disconcerting.

The question of why then, why now, was the one that weighed on him most heavily. He was not a king now, and he could see no way he would become one, so the prophecy was clearly wrong. And besides that what possible need was there for him in this era? Things were far from perfect, but it was nothing that one man who was good with a sword and feudal diplomacy could fix.

It took a full month before he really came to terms with the scale of what he had lost. He did ask, in a vain kind of hope, about those who were important to him, those he loved. The answers had always been gentle but firm. That was their time. They had led mortal lives. They had led full lives that had come to an end and so were not able to return. The grief was a constant ache at the back of his mind. He had lost them all, but they had died a very long time ago. He missed them. He missed his knights. He missed Leon and Percival. He even begrudgingly had to admit he missed Gwaine.

And Gwen. It was only at night he could admit to himself how much he longed to see her again. For all that their relationship had been anything but easy, he felt her absence keenly. Although in this new future, he was beginning to see that how he loved her might not have been as romantic as he had once thought. That only made things worse if anything. He felt like he was betraying the memory of her by realising he had never really wanted her in _that_ way.

The one person he never dared to ask about, barely even let himself think about, was Merlin. Some part of him still hoped. If Merlin had got him to Avalon, could he not have done the same for himself? Merlin had promised to always be by his side. He had said that was his destiny, what he was born for, so how could he not be here? It took waking up in a world he could never have dreamed of to realise how many hours of his day had once been filled with that spirited soul by his side. No. He never asked about Merlin. To know him truly gone would have been one loss too many.

=====

A year on from his awakening found him wiser, humbler, and acutely aware of all that he had done wrong and taken for granted in his last lifetime (as he now thought of it). He had a passing knowledge of recent history, how to purchase food, and what not to put in a microwave.

James, Trevor’s son, had taken pity on him a month before when they met at a druid gathering in Arthur’s honour. James did not want to spend the rest of his life watching an empty lake and so was more than grateful for Arthur’s return saving him from his fate. James was also the youngest of the druids. He was around Arthur’s age, abnormally tall, and had long hair that was constantly changing colour. Arthur had, by now, come to understand that there was no ‘real magic’ as the druids called it in the world as it was, but that didn’t stop him backing away when a young man with braided blue and pink hair approached him.

After the initial surprise, they found they got along quite well, and James was the first to recognise Arthur’s need to escape the endless rotation of guest rooms in the homes of old druids. He gave Arthur a knowing wink and dragged him, unprotesting, off to his flat in Brighton to ‘try and make a life for himself’. The other druids were not impressed, but they didn’t seem to want to argue with the one young member of their order, or King Arthur of Camelot.

=====

Brighton was everything the sleepy rural towns and villages he had been living in were not. It was loud, vibrant, and unflinchingly eclectic. Arthur finally found he fit in perfectly. He could speak without people questioning his odd turns of phrase, or the fact he had never heard of Bohemian Rhapsody.

Looking around he came to the conclusion he would probably have been accepted just as easily were he to dress in his full suit of armour. He decided that might be a bit over the top, but he did sometimes wear his cloak out and about in the colder weather. People would stop him and ask where he got it and he would reply ‘Camelot’. At first he wondered at the way they just accepted his answer, but James explained it was probably because they thought it was an online shop. Arthur shuddered. The internet was a truly scary place.

=====

James also took it upon himself to ‘educate’ him on what the Arthurian legends had spawned in modern day culture. Something that it seemed the other druids had all been carefully guarding him from. A week of non-stop films left him in various stages of amused to appalled. His favourite was the one James called a ‘cartoon’. It held no resemblance to his own life of course, but it made him smile to see the way they had depicted Merlin. They weren’t all that far off sometimes, he thought.

James watched him laugh as they watched The Sword in the Stone for the third time. 

“You never asked about Merlin.” James said, and Arthur’s laughter died in his throat.

“What?” Arthur’s stomach felt like the bottom had dropped out of it.

“I asked Dad. He said you never asked about Merlin. He said you asked about all the others, but not him. You talk about all the others, but never him. Why not? Did you hate him because of the magic?” James’ eyes were sad. There was something wistful there. 

Arthur tried to swallow around the lump in his throat. “No… No I didn’t… I could never hate Merlin. I…” Arthur didn’t know what he had intended to say next, but he found whatever it was he couldn’t say it. He coughed to clear his throat and tried to blink away the haze in his eyes.

“They’re all really worried about him.” James said. “Not as much as me though. I know he would never just give up.”

“You… They… What?” Arthur was failing to follow the thread of this conversation. He had no idea what James was trying to say.

“He was always around. He always did the right thing. Then there was the incident and I know it was hard on him, but I also know he wouldn’t just up and leave like that. At least he wouldn’t leave me. He was always so kind. The kindest of them all. He just accepted me for who I was and told them all they had better accept it or else. So I know he’d never go this long without getting in touch.” The words tumbled from James’ mouth, falling into Arthur’s mind like stones in still waters. 

The waves rippled out. It sounded like James knew Merlin. But that would mean...

“Are you saying he’s alive?” Arthur said, his voice hoarse.

“You didn’t know?” Now James looked panicked.

“No.” Arthur felt his breath coming quicker and yet still failing to fill his lungs. “I thought he was like the others. I thought he… he… died a long time ago.”

“No! No of course not! How could Merlin ever – Wait are you saying you don’t know _anything_ about it?”

“He was there when I died. I knew about his magic and a bit about the prophecy, but we didn’t have long between the battle and the lake. When did he come back?”

“Come back?”

“From Avalon. How long before me?”

“He didn’t come back.” James said, and Arthur felt his heart stutter, but then he continued. “Merlin is immortal. That’s what his druid name means. _Emrys. Immortal._ Merlin never left. He doesn’t die.”

The words were like a blade in his chest. Merlin was _still_ alive.

“So he’s been alive this whole time? Since Camelot?”

“Yes! He’s been waiting for you. I’ve known him all my life. He was like my best friend and then five years ago he just vanishes.” James was up and pacing the small apartment now. “Merlin has done everything he could to help protect this country for so long. I guess he started after you went away. He’s the only reason we’ve not been invaded or destroyed or torn ourselves to pieces countless times over. Any time it got too bad he just fixed it. Apparently there were others at first - other magic users that is – but there’s been no one now for decades. Nothing. Then there was this man a few years back and they were close and it turned out he had some magic, but somehow it went wrong and he died, and then Merlin just left!” 

James stopped pacing and fixed Arthur with a sad look. “Whenever he wasn’t saving us he was always by the lake. He was always waiting. So when I didn’t find him there I knew it was serious. I thought perhaps he might have felt so bad he didn’t want to talk to any of us, even me, even though we were close, but I could never imagine him to stop waiting for you. Not after all this time. And now you’re back and he still hasn’t returned. So I don’t know what to think.” James looked away from him then and drew a shaky breath. There were tears in his eyes. “Arthur, I’m really scared he’s gone.”

“But you just said he’s immortal.” Arthur latched onto the one thread of hope amidst the sorry tale.

“He doesn’t die. But that doesn’t mean he _can’t._ ”

As those last awful words hit him, Arthur knew then what he’d been holding back from himself the whole time – he loved Merlin. He hadn’t been able to ask, because to ask would be to risk losing the one person he had ever truly loved. And now he knew that Merlin had been alive, that Merlin had waited hundreds, and hundreds, of years for him, and yet he still didn’t get to be with him because he was gone before he made it back. 

In the background the film was still going and a jaunty song was playing - _Don't just wait and trust to fate / And say, that's how it's meant to be / It's up to you how far you go / If you don't try you'll never know..._

“Merlin would never dare to die before I told him he could. We’re two sides of the same coin. If I’m back then he can’t be long. So we’ll look for him, and we’ll find him.” Arthur knew that his logic was entirely cobbled together. If nothing about his own destiny was right, then it was equally likely Merlin’s wasn’t either, but he didn’t want to acknowledge it. He wasn’t going to ‘just wait and trust to fate’. 

Fuck. He was taking advice from a cartoon fish version of his best friend. The future really was a weird place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 will follow shortly. Just need to round it off and edit, but figured I'd post this now since it was getting split. I hope you enjoyed it so far!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go folks. I got this wrapped up a bit quicker than I thought so that's nice and I can get back to working on my long fic now.

Once he had cheered up again James made it clear that he knew full well that Arthur’s interests were very much with men and not women. He tried to deny it but James just laughed and waved off his excuses. Then things got worse. James called him into his room. 

“We’ve both had a really stressful evening so far. Lots of _feels_ to deal with. We need to shake off all this misery.” James declared.

“James-”

“The night is young, and we are _hot_ , so we’re going out.” 

The expressive wave of James’ hand and the way he was raiding his wardrobe, flinging more and more extravagant outfits on to the bed, made Arthur nervous.

“I am a perfectly adequate temperature thank you. I will remain in your rooms.”

“I don’t mean _that_ kind of hot _Your Highness!_ ”

James began holding up strange jewelled pieces of fabric in front of him and then shaking his head before casting them aside.

“I really do not know what you are talking about, James.”

“Put this on.” James threw a black slip of fabric at him.

“What is it?”

“It’s a t-shirt. Put it on.” James ordered.

He could kill the wisp of a man before him in seconds. So why then was he so afraid when he ordered him around. He hesitated briefly, until James began to take step towards him, then hurried to take off the loose shirt he was currently wearing and pull on the strange stretchy fabric. It clung to him like a second skin and it had a wave of what he had heard James affectionately call ‘sequins’ on it. His face grew hot at the idea of walking around outside of the apartment in such a garment.

“James-” He began.

James cut him off. “No.” He threw a leather jacket at him. “This too.”

He caught the jacket. “I really don’t need to go out.”

“Do not argue with me, Arthur. Now you’re to go and put on those dark jeans I bought you the other day, and then we’re going out drinking until the early hours. If we’re lucky we may even find someone pretty to kiss.” 

“But they’re so tight! I can’t go out like-”

“Put. Them. On.”

Arthur opened his mouth to try and protest once more. James folded his arms across his chest and Arthur snapped his mouth shut and went to find the jeans.

=====

An hour later found them in a crowded bar. A crowded bar that very much was not for straight people. Arthur wondered how he, who had once been a _king_ for fucks sake, had been talked into this by a twig of a man who’d probably never even touched a sword.

He probably shouldn’t have said the last out loud. 

“Oh, I’ve touched a fair few swords I can promise you.” James gave him an ostentatious wink.

Arthur was doomed.

James slid off to the bar and left him standing helplessly on the edge of the tightly packed space. He edged along a wall to lean in the corner. He fixed his best aloof and imperious expression in the hopes it would keep him safe, but it seemed to have the opposite effect. Or maybe it was just because of the excessively tight costume he’d been coerced into. Either way, by the time James returned with two glasses of cold and bubbly liquid he had been propositioned several times.

He eyed the glass James handed him with suspicion. 

“What is this?”

“Cider.”

“It doesn’t _look_ like cider. It has bubbles.”

James took a long slurp and ignored him.

Arthur lifted the glass and cautiously took a sip. The cold made his teeth ache and the bubbles caught in his throat, but otherwise it did taste a bit like cider. He hadn’t really had much alcohol other than wine since he had returned. Nothing tasted the same, for all that it had the same names.

“I’m not really one for cider.” He said, but took another big sip.

“Well I really wouldn’t touch the wine in this place, I know you don’t like modern beers, and funnily enough they don’t serve mead. Fear not, it’s not as strong as the stuff you’re used to.” 

Arthur decided not to explain that he’d never been that great with alcohol. He had made looking like he was drinking as much as everyone else a fine art. After all that he’d learned that afternoon he was happy to try a little alcohol based oblivion.

=====

The first drink was swiftly followed by a second. The third was theoretically on it’s way, but James seemed to have gotten detained at the bar. He couldn’t blame him; the blonde that was leaning in to talk into his ear was really quite good-looking. The thought that he’d rather _Merlin_ over someone like that made him laugh. A young man next to him shot him a concerned look and tried to edge a bit further away.

Arthur decided that this was his cue to exit. It was all just a bit much for him. 

He gave James a wave across the crowd, and got a cheery response. Evidently his determination to get Arthur drunk had been diverted from its course by a pretty face. He began weaving his way towards the door. It took much longer than it should have done as he was entirely unused to people not moving out of his way except in battle, and he couldn’t exactly knock people out for not clearing a path for him. It didn’t help that people kept stopping him to try and talk. He was half way across the room and almost trapped in another alcove when the door opened and a tall figure stepped into the room. 

The man’s hair was longer than it had been and perfectly styled, his cheekbones high and pronounced, and the fine stubble along his jaw dark against pale skin. He was dressed entirely in black but for a thin red scarf that was wound around his throat and draped down his chest. The shock of bright red was like a pennant at the head of an army. It spoke of times long past, of history catching up to the future, of all that he had loved and lost. 

_Merlin._

Merlin was here. Now. He took another step forward as Merlin scanned the crowd, skimming over Arthur as though he wasn’t even there. Then his eyes fixed upon James and he began making his way to the bar. Unlike for Arthur, people moved out of Merlin’s way. He walked with a sense of quiet purpose and power. He also slipped through the smallest of gaps because the man looked worryingly thin. Arthur wanted to run to him. To hold him. To know that what he was seeing was solid and real and not some trick of his mind or heart, but he found he was frozen to the spot.

James spun round at the tap on his shoulder from Merlin and after a moment of shock launched himself to embrace him. Arthur drew back into the alcove and tried to get a grip on himself. What was he going to do now? James was talking animatedly at Merlin now, all hands and expressive gestures. He looked around the room several times but didn’t see Arthur. He wasn’t sure why he was hiding from his friend, but equally the thought of facing Merlin _here_ of all places was not something he wanted.

=====

An hour lurking in a dark corner of a busy bar had left him all kinds of irritable. He should have just left and gone back to the flat, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. James and Merlin had spent a long time talking intensely together at a table that mysteriously became available for them, then James had left.

The blonde who had been chatting up James before was over to the table in seconds, drinks in hand. A new kind of jealousy settled over Arthur. He hadn’t really thought about it earlier, whether Merlin was interested in men, or even if his feelings would be reciprocated. He resisted the urge to march over and find out. This was not the moment.

He watched the pair flirting for an achingly long time. The crowd had begun to thin out when they both got up and left, together, hand in hand. Arthur wanted to smack the impostor clear away from Merlin, but instead he elected for following them as covertly as possible.

=====

Arthur normally hated crowds, but the fact the sea front was still packed at this time of night was really quite useful to him. He tried to blend in, stay out of view, but not to lose sight of the two men he was following. Once they moved away from the crowds and people he kept to the shadows and found things to duck behind. This might be an unfamiliar landscape to him, but he was trained to the highest degree in stealth and tracking. Finally, his past as a knight was coming in useful.

Eventually, some distance out from the centre of the town and where there was no one in sight but the three of them, Merlin and his companion stopped. The blonde tugged at Merlin’s hand and then pulled him into a passionate kiss.

It took everything in Arthur’s will not to run out of his hiding spot and snap the man’s neck. _How dare he touch Merlin in that way._

When they broke apart Merlin looked conflicted. There was a sadness in his expression that made Arthur feel sick. He had always hated to see Merlin sad or suffering. When the blonde moved to kiss him again, Merlin stopped him with a palm on his chest. 

“Look, I’m sorry, but I don’t think I want this Patrick.” Merlin’s words carried clearly across the quiet space.

“You don’t _think_ so?” Patrick snapped at him.

“No.” Merlin said quietly

“How can you know if you don’t try?” Patrick ran a hand down the side of Merlin’s face. He leaned in to kiss Merlin again.

This time, Arthur didn’t even think. Instinct took over and before the blonde knew what was happening, Arthur had wrenched him away from Merlin and pushed him to the ground.

“He said no, you bastard!” Arthur placed himself between Merlin and the fallen man.

“Who the fuck are you?” Patrick scowled at him.

“Arthur?” Merlin’s voice came from behind him, small and uncertain. 

Arthur glanced back and offered a tense smile, “Merlin.”

“Were you following us?” Patrick looked around, a wild look in his eyes.

“I was. And a good thing I did too. Now get away from here immediately, otherwise I will be forced to show you how much I know about using a sword.”

“Ooooo-kaaayy. You’re a freak. I’m out of here.” Patrick scrambled to his feet and tried to walk away with his dignity in tact, but the limp from the fall and the way his hands shook rather destroyed that. 

“I could’ve handled that, you know.” Merlin said conversationally.

Arthur spun round to look at him. He could feel his face growing red. Perhaps in the gloom Merlin wouldn’t notice.

Merlin laughed softly. “I’d forgotten how cute you are when you blush.”

_Damn._

“Cute?”

Merlin shook his head, his smile wide, but still sad somehow. He turned and began walking down to the shore across the small pebbles and rough shingle. Arthur trailed behind him silently. The moon was bright on the water, far more beautiful than the unnatural light people filled their houses with these days. 

“James told me you were back, but I didn’t believe him.” Merlin said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“For a year now, yes.”

“I thought…” Merlin trailed off, his gaze fixed down, watching the gentle waves lapping the shore.

“You thought you’d know?” Arthur asked.

“Yes.” 

They stood in silence for a while, the only sounds were the far off sounds of people still partying into the early hours, and the hiss and rumble of the waves dragging at the shore. It was tense and awkward. Arthur had no idea what to say.

“James seems to think you’re gay, by the way.” Merlin suddenly broke the silence. He glanced briefly to Arthur then fixed his gaze back down to his feet.

“Oh. Right. Well…”

“I told him he was wrong, obviously.” Merlin said. “I’m sorry… about Gwen. It was so long ago for me, but for you…” He shrugged, awkward and ill at ease.

“Thank you. It took a while, but I’ve had time to grieve for them all now. I just wish I’d got to see them all once more.”

“I’ve still got the Horn of Cathbhadh somewhere.” Merlin offered.

Arthur shuddered. “No thank you. Once was enough for that nonsense.”

Merlin opened his mouth to say something else, but then stopped and frowned. “Are you wearing _sequins?!_ ”

“Ah.” Arthur glanced down at his chest. He had forgotten what he was wearing.

“You are!” Merlin crowed. “And how tight are those jeans!”

“James has… some rather definite opinions on clothing.”

“I like it. Shows off your arse beautifully.” Merlin shot him a cheeky grin. 

It was so like the old days that Arthur fell back into their easy pattern without a second thought.

“Are you saying I’m fat?”

Merlin looked him up and down appraisingly. “Not fat, no. Just saying you have a nice bum, and there’s no hiding it in that ensemble.”

OK, maybe not exactly like the old days then. Arthur was blushing again. “Ah.”

“What?”

“So… you’re gay?” Arthur asked.

Merlin shrugged. “Probably?” Then he laughed at Arthur’s confused expression. “After a few hundred years or so you get rather bored of labels. Not that it matters really. There’s only ever really been one person for me.”

“Who was it? Gwaine?” Arthur could have kicked himself, but the words were out of his mouth already. He was going to blame the cider.

Merlin tilted his head as if considering it. “I remember Gwaine. Yes, he was nice. Good looking too. But I’ve always had a bit of a thing for arrogant idiots that secretly have a heart of gold.”

“I can’t think of anyone that fits that description.”

“Of course you can’t. You always did think highly of yourself.” Merlin laughed at him again.

“What do you-” Arthur began to ask, and then it hit him. “OH! Me? You mean me?!” His mouth opened and closed a few times before he blurted out, “but I’m not an idiot!”

Merlin was laughing loudly now. Arthur launched himself at him and they struggled for a few moments before crashing down on the shore.

It wasn’t romantic. Pebbles are solid and lumpy. Arthur groaned and rolled onto his back.

“Ow.” Merlin examined his elbow critically, then shifted to get more comfortable where he lay. “I’m going to have a bruised bum thanks to you.”

Arthur laughed for the first time since he had seen Merlin again.

They lay watching the night sky for a while. The silence was easy now. It was odd how quickly they had fallen back into the patterns of their old life. A year, plius whatever had passed in Avalon, felt like a long time for him, but for Merlin? He couldn’t even begin to conceive of waiting so long.

“What if I were?” He blurted out.

“Were what?”

“Gay. What if I was gay?”

Merlin turned his head, studying Arthur, and seemed to think for some time. Then slowly he rolled and propped himself up on one forearm, leaning over Arthur. Their faces were so close now. Arthur could feel his heartbeat right down to his fingertips. He took an uneven breath and nodded slightly. Merlin closed the distance between them and pressed his lips to Arthur’s. 

The warmth that flooded his body in the cool of the night reminded of other moments long ago when they sat around campfires together. That heat, that closeness, it was like coming home. Merlin’s lips were soft and cool against his own feverish face. He wanted to capture this memory and keep it somewhere safe. The way they moved together, the feel of Merlin’s hand, skin rough but touch so heartbreakingly gentle, the sound of the waves breaking. It was perfect. Ever since he had returned he had felt lost, and now he knew where he belonged.

Merlin drew away. At first his face was serious, but then a wide, mischievous, smile lit up his features. 

“Was that acceptable for you, Sire?” It was only as he said those words that Arthur realised how Merlin’s voice had changed. The years he had lived had shaped it. It was the product of the journey he had taken.

“I’m not a king any more, Merlin,” he said, and prodded Merlin in the ribs. His earlier assessment was confirmed – the man was too thin.

“You’ll always be my King.” The moonlight traced the most beautiful and honest smile on Merlin’s face.

Merlin let his weight down off his arm and settled his head on Arthur’s chest. Arthur wrapped his arm around his love, holding him tight. He was never going to leave his side.

“That prophecy was wrong about so many things,” he muttered thoughtfully.

“I had rather stopped believing in it recently.”

“Is that why you went away?”

“Mhmm.” Merlin hummed his assent against his chest. “I’m the only source of magic left in this country now. Once the last other traces left… I got tired. I waited so long. I decided to just take some time, see all the things I’d never been able to while I was tethered to these shores.”

“James was worried.” Arthur said. What he meant was that _he_ had been worried, but he wouldn’t add to the other man’s burdens.

“Yes.” Merlin’s hand upon his shoulder closed into a fist. Arthur reached up with his own free hand and wrapped it around Merlin’s. “I never meant to go away so long. I never meant to leave him alone. I guess I sort of got a bit lost. Without the prophecy and waiting and saving the country once a decade or so I… felt a bit redundant. It took a while to find my way back.”

“You’ve done so much for so long. You deserved a rest.” Arthur told him, his voice firm. Really, he was quite angry about how many concerns had been loaded upon Merlin. It wasn’t fair to expect so much of one person, to make it their whole life, to allow their entire being to be subsumed by other people’s needs.

“This is better than a rest.” Merlin said. “I’m glad you’re back. I’m glad I waited.”

A thought came to Arthur then, clear as daylight through the darkness of the night. 

“What if that’s why I’m back?” Arthur said. Merlin lifted his head and looked up at him, curious. “What if I’m back for you this time? What if the need Albion had was for you, and what if you needed me to be able to continue doing that? What if I’m here to look after you this time? It’s the flip side of our coin.”

Merlin laughed then. “You serving me?”

“I’d follow you to the ends of this world, Merlin, if it meant I could keep you safe and stay by your side. I think I owe that to you after my last life, but I’d do it even if I didn’t.”

“The other side of our coin.” Merlin said as if he was testing out the words on his tongue. “You realise that would mean you could never leave me again.”

“Never.” 

They stared into one another’s eyes for a long moment. It was much too heavy a conversation to be having on a beach in the early hours of the morning, but it was important, and meaningful, and it would shape both of their futures. 

“You’d have to wash _my_ socks!” Merlin broke the tension with another of those beautiful smiles.

“The last time I was left unattended with the machine of washing I flooded James’ apartment.” Arthur admitted, but his smile was just as wide as Merlin’s.

Merlin laughed, “oh well, who needs socks anyway!” Then he launched himself on top of Arthur and kissed him senseless until Arthur forgot how to breathe, and reluctantly had to ask him to stop because there was a pebble reminiscent of a hedgehog digging into his lower back.

They walked back along the shore, hand in hand, towards a new future, a new fate, that they would make together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading everyone! I hope you enjoyed the fluff once we got to it.  
> And the sequins.  
> Damn but I want a whole sequin-centric fic where this pair go all out for a night on the town...


End file.
